#i'm still soft for that story...

[hopeswriting]

was thinking about takeshi and how he's my favorite brand of unconditional devotion btw. the utter and absolute and all-consuming kind that runs so deep to the very core and is so intrinsic and fundamental to it, it can only express itself in the most casual and natural and certain way. without second thoughts, without any room for doubts or for any moral dilemma to be had over it, because of course he ought to always be breathing and living for his chosen person first and foremost. of course he ought to hang on their every word and make them true no matter what, no matter what he has to do to make it happen, no matter what he has to do to other people to make it happen, and no matter what it might turn him into in the process. because it's obviously the way the world should be for his chosen person. at their feet, ready to bend over backwards and break and build itself again to better answer to all their needs even if they don't ask it for it. it's the only right way it should be for them, and of course takeshi's going to do his utmost at all times to make it a reality as much as possible.

and his devotion comes out as naturally as breathing, comes out lighthearted and nonchalant like he might as well be talking about the weather, but it's not unaware of itself. it's not that takeshi doesn't know it's unhealthy and wrong and that he's willing to go entirely too far in its name for anyone's good. it's not that he wouldn't hear you out if you were to sit him down and explain to him just why he needs to tone it down a little (a lot). logically, he'd agree with you and know you're right. and then he'd tell you he's still not going to do anything whatsoever about it. that he's not bothered by it and doesn't feel the need to change anything to his attitude. makes it a point to never let anyone or anything sway him even an inch in the stand he took when it comes to that, no matter how many thousand of times you might go over the subject with him.

because the morality of his devotion isn't the point at all. is entirely irrelevant to it and doesn't affect the way he expresses it all. it's not the metric with which he draws a line in the sand to hold it accountable to. because the thing is, takeshi's entire world revolves around tsuna--tsuna is his entire world altogether, and it's just a matter of fact, that simple. to him it's a truth as unchanging as the sky being blue, and so being the way he is according to that truth is the only way he can imagine being that'd feel right to him. and so the actual and only metric that matters here is "would tsuna be happier if i were to do this?" and/or "is this something tsuna needs me to do?"

and like. i don't think takeshi ever stops being a kind person capable of compassion and understanding and mercy and forgiveness even ten years later once they became mafia through and through. and i don't think either he grows up to be feared and called a monster per se despite the things they inevitably had to do during those ten years (and the things they'll inevitably keep having to do as long as they keep being mafia), at least not in the way, for example, they'll never stop fearing and calling mukuro one. but i do think that among the tenth gen, he ends up being the one with the most ruthless, merciless and horrific blood on his hands of that particular and distinct loving kind. you know the one i mean, right? he comes to be the one most expected and the one first expected to be willing and to take it upon himself to go through with it when the need arises. and to think little of it after, if anything at all. all in the name of making tsuna's reign as easy on him as possible.

and it's to the point where it's the kind of blood that makes even mukuro pause at times. or, when takeshi is the one coming up with solutions himself during meetings, makes even reborn blink. not because it's unjustified or wouldn't be safe or efficient or anything of the sort, but because it is unwarrantedly thorough in its retaliation. and sometimes, at times like this, he's the one tsuna needs to step in for the most, because he's the only one who can reason with him that "yes, this would work in getting rid of our problem" but "no, please, don't do that takeshi". because if tsuna is the only thing that infers on just how much and in what ways he'll let himself be devoted to him, then of course, he's also the only one takeshi's willing to reign himself in for without second thoughts. because he'd hate to ever do something tsuna would disapprove of or wouldn't want him to do. or do something that'd make tsuna see him differently or love him back less even in the slightest.

and it's also like. his devotion isn't an undisciplined one. it's not one he doesn't have control over, the very opposite. it's a very purposeful and conscious choice he chooses to keep making over and over again every step of the way, and he taught himself to have control over it, to know when it's needed and/or wanted, and how much and in which ways it is when it happens, and to keep it down otherwise. and, yes, to also reign it back in at tsuna's request at times when it still slips past his control. because it's all about making tsuna's happiness easier and secure and long-lasting, and never about burdening him with just how committed he is to do that.

so it comes down to this: takeshi willing to go above and beyond and more for tsuna unless tsuna explicitly asks him not to. and to tsuna needing to ask him not to every now and then. and to other people pointing out to him how too many times tsuna's already needed to stop him, and that maybe there's a hint for him to take there. and to takeshi seeing the hint, looking it straight in the eye and recognizing it for what it is and just. deciding it doesn't apply to him because it's all perfectly normal behavior to him. because it's the only kind of behavior that makes sense to him and feels right.

and so—to circle back to my first point—he can only express his devotion as naturally as breathing, so casually, almost like it's something inconsequential and not worth talking about despite how unmistakably it couldn't be further away from being the truth. it's the only way he could have always known how to express it, because, after all, who has ever taken time to ponder about the details and the hows of the way they breathe?

and i, for one, absolutely eat that shit up every time, thanks for coming to my ted talk <3

[fbfh]

I want to fuck Daryl Dixon so fucking bad. y'all don't even understand the primal need I have to milk him dry, suck his soul out through his heavy uncut dick. and I KNOW the feeling is mutual because we all know Daryl's the typ to suppress and ignore his emotions, right???? which means OBVIOUSLY he'll be too focused on staying alive and keeping the group safe to even think about sex, too exhausted from fighting walkers and scavanging supplies, just making it through the day to even whack one out. and all of that sexual frustration just builds and builds and builds deep in his subconsious until one day he's out hunting and comes across you. he doesn't expect to see someone alone and without a group, especially not such a hot piece of ass like you. he's older, you know there's an age gap between you, but you are both adults, and only meeting for the first time now. you justify this to yourself, mentally trying to figure out if anything between you would be legally or ethically yucky. you decide that it's fine - especially given the state of the world - to indulge your feelings.

Daryl brushes it off for as long as he can. He ignores the way you look at him, and all the dreams of you sneaking into his tent and riding him until you squirt, he ignores the stray thoughts that leave him a little bricked up happening more and more. He ignores it until one night, you actually do sneak into his tent. He thinks he's dreaming at first, seeming as gruff and chilly as ever, but you don't care. You just crouch next to him and hug him, hiding your face in his bare chest.

"I... I had a bad dream." your words are simple, but they really speak volumes. He knows first hand how bad the nightmares can get, and your skin feels so nice on his. he's so touch starved that he doesn't even realize why he's pulling you into his lap, holding you close and rubbing your back, he just knows it feels... really good. like, really really good. so he tries to calm you down and help you settle back down for sleep, laying you down next to him. you cuddle up to him so painfully close that he doesn't know what to do. You wrap both your legs around one of his thighs, squirming a little as you settle down.

"'m sorry for keeping you up so late," you say, pouting up at him and he is SO close to folding. he has maybe one or two scraps of self control that are fully stripped away when you squirm some more, rocking your core against his thigh, and he feels it. He feels the slimy, slippery wet patch growing wetter and wetter as you "get comfortable".

"Do you think there's something that could... y'know... tire me out a little?"

and he folds. of COURSE he folds, anyone would with you being all cute and sweet to them, ESPECIALLY someone whose heavy, full balls are bluer than the lonliness and pain in his heart. he uses his last ounce of self control to say your name like a warning, but it only serves to make your pussy throb against his leg - something he definitely does not miss.

"You're playing a dangerous game here, kid..." he warns. You inch closer and closer to him, batting your eyes up with a cute little pout.

"'m not a kid," you protest. your eyes flick between his eyes and his lips, and you can't stop your hips from grinding down onto his thigh. "...you want me to prove it?"

but with how fast he flips you over and pins you down and folds you in half, you really don't have time to prove anything.

[dollypopup]

"Colin didn't do enough to earn/deserve Penelope!"

but that's the rub, isn't it? he didn't have to. that's why people are so mad. He didn't have to, and he never had to

Because what this season proves is that love isn't about what we deserve. That love cannot be earned. Viewing love in such light makes it conditional- a matter of transaction. That if we simply do enough, if we humble ourselves, if we are ground down to humility, surely we will be cared for. That love can be a matter of groveling, or suffering, is antithetical to what it truly is. It is such an incredibly puritanical, highly Catholic perspective on it. That Colin has fallen from grace with what he said at the end of Season 2, and thus must now repent. Must have adequate penance.

Who determines what would have been enough, in such circumstances? What would be enough from such a puritanical viewpoint to garner forgiveness? When Colin had history of being soft and tender with Penelope- writing her letters, complimenting her, finding her in ballrooms, laughing at her jokes and making her laugh in turn, defending her- would it truly appease us to have the shape of their lovestory form around the skin of suffering? Of coming to hands and knees in a plead for mercy?

No.

Penelope informs that she's hurt by his comments, and Colin sought to soothe that pain without her demanding it of him. That is love. Penelope reveals the ache of being unwanted and how it affects her self worth, and Colin says 'I will help you see yourself the way I see you', because he has always found her wonderful. That is love. Colin comes to Penelope and reveals that he appreciates her, that he does not want to lose her, and requests a chance to prove that, and she not only accepts, but finds relief in doing so. That's love. Penelope feels braver because Colin thinks she already is. That's love. Colin feels unseen but Penelope sees him. That's love. Penelope asks Colin to kiss her with no expectations of more, and he tenderly touches her face and dreams and dreams and dreams of that moment where she put her heart in his hands. That's love. Colin runs after her carriage and has no idea she harbors affection for him when he spills his own heart open, asking her to choose him, and when she says they're friends, he backs off. That's love. Penelope says she wants to be more than friends, and they fall headfirst into each other. That's love. Colin asks Penelope for her permission to provide pleasure for her, and in doing so, finds pleasure himself. That's love, that's love, that's love.

It has never been about 'deserving'. It has only ever been about opening themselves up to the possibility. Colin and Penelope said: I know you're scared, I know it's scary, but it's worth it. I adore you. Take my hand. Stand with me in corners and have a good time. Crack silly jokes with me. Let's eat cake. Walk with me. Talk to me of matters so foolish, it would make you blush to do so with someone else, I want to listen. I accept you. I see you. Love is not owed, earned- but given. Shared freely. Without expectation. Without condition. With an open hand and heart.

They said: You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Nicola was right. Season 3 is about romance.

[1singulargrape]

yuuji cannot use a chair to save his life

Sukuna was sitting on the floor, his upper arms resting on the couch behind him. His head was tilted to the side as it rested on his fist, and he lazily looked at the screen in front of him.

Yuuji was playing a video game, a "shooter game" with many colors and sounds that looked more like the mess the brat watched on his phone rather than anything coherent. Trying to follow along made Sukuna's head spin but there were a few things that were easy to catch on.

Yuuji's character exploded into a colored puddle, and without missing a beat Sukuna laughed at him. "You suck at this," he added.

Yuuji turned to glare at him, straining his neck while doing so, "I haven't played in months and the other team has a sniper, so if I don't try to move up we're never getting back mid."

He turned back at the sound of his character respawning, "And my team only has short to mid-range weapons so we're at a disadvantage here."

Sukuna couldn't be bothered to understand what any of that meant. "I'm only hearing excuses. If you were actually good at this game of yours you wouldn't need teammates to win."

"It's a multiplier game, having teammates is the whole POINT!" He screamed the last word as he narrowly evaded an attack that would have surely got him killed again, exploding his opponent in the process. His momentary glee was quickly crushed as his character also exploded for seemingly no reason.

Sukuna didn't try to hide his chuckles while the young man anxiously looked at the map while respawning. The match ended before he could get onto the field again.

Despite the general chaos of the game Sukuna only needed one look to know the results. He smiled with all his teeth, poking at Yuuji's temple with his free hand, "Maybe you should give up for now. What is it? The fifth loss in a row?"

"Oh, shut up," he fell back, landing on Sukuna's chest, "I just need to shake the rust off," he closed his eyes for a moment, knowing how to queue for another match without looking.

Sukuna huffed fondly, "You've been saying that for the past 30 minutes, brat."

Yuuji didn't add anything, only pouting a little. He made his character jump up and down with the hand he still had on the controller. Sukuna tightened the arms he had warped around Yuuji's waist, filling the gap until the younger man sat back up for the next match.

.

.

Yuuji was on his phone, checking over his social medias, laughing at memes and catching up with the tea of strangers online while sending out anything interesting to his friends

What had started out as him sitting beside Sukuna was now him halfway over the other man's laps, his upper back and neck held on a massive arm and hand.

Sukuna was reading old history books, saying he wanted to "catch up" to what happened while he was sealed. One time he mentioned to Yuuji how lacking historical records felt compared to the reality of life during his time, but that didn't stop him from reading them; in fact having a basis to compare how things were when he was still alive compared to what was recorded granted him a far better understanding of other recordings, according to him.

Yuuji didn't really get why he'd spend so much time reading from the source when there were so many videos online detailing their country's history. He had provided Sukuna with a phone for that reason but he only used it for 2 weeks before permanently retiring it to a drawer saying that "it was no wonder the brat was so stupid with the amount of trash accessible through that thing”.

Not what Yuuji had expected when Sukuna had spent those 2 weeks with an average of 12 hours of daily screentime, but hey.

While he was scrolling, Yuuji came across something that made him grin. "Hey, old man!"

Sukuna turned one eye to look at him which was enough acknowledgement for Yuuji, "Look at this," he turned his phone to him.

A picture of an adult tiger lying on its side with a cub pawing at its face was shoved into Sukuna's vision. "It's us."

Yuuji was grinning from ear to ear, giggling to himself. He took back his phone after receiving a hum of acknowledgement and they both resumed their respective activity.

Once Yuuji was fully focused on his screen again, Sukuna allowed himself to smile.

.

.

"Are you done showing off?" Yuuji asked annoyed. As his answer, Sukuna pushed back, going from doing push-ups on one hand to one finger and it only pissed off Yuuji even more.

Originally Yuuji was simply working out a little and was joined by Sukuna who not only matched Yuuji's moves but also made a point of one-upping him at every turn.

Yuuji watched from the side as Sukuna finished his set of 1 finger push-ups, wholly unimpressed as he was pretty sure he could do the same.

He simply knew that Sukuna would one-up him again somehow and he didn't want his light work-out session to turn into their usual competitions.

"Is that all you got brat?" Sukuna was smiling with all his teeth, still holding a perfect plank position, "Was such a simple move enough to scar you into surrendering?"

Well, Yuuji couldn't let that slide. "I just think that this was way too easy for you."

Yuuji walked closer and got on Sukuna's back, sitting in the middle of it. He knew that a man who could carry entire buildings wouldn't be bothered by his weight, but he was still annoyed by the fact that the other did not budge. Not even breaking a sweat.

"Is that it?" Sukuna changed the arm holding him and started another set. "This is still a lightwork brat. Unless you also want me to sit on your back as well to see if you can match the strength of a single one of my arms?"

"I can carry you pretty easily you know that?" Yuuji added with a frown.

"I'd love to see this," he added mockingly which only made Yuuji angrier.

The older man finished his set. A bit passed and he eventually laid down on floor, Yuuji still on his back.

"Hey what are you doing now?"

"Given how comfortable you seem up there I have decided to claim victory this time and let you enjoy yourself. How benevolent of me, I know."

Determined not to leave this as a loss, Yuuji got up and immediately deadlifted Sukuna off the ground.

.

.

Most beds weren't comfortable to Sukuna, made in sizes too small for his bulk and extra limbs, yet sometimes he'd ditch the massive one in his room to sleep in Yuuji's.

And what could Yuuji do if he was tired as well? With Sukuna lying on his back, arms splayed open and legs dangling off the edge, there wasn't that much place left for him to sleep on.

Yuuji crawled up the bed and laid directly on Sukuna's chest, hair tickling the bigger man's chin. He wrapped his arms around the other's neck while 2 hands placed themselves on the small of his back. 'For stability' they both thought.

Like this they both drifted to sleep, hearts close to one another and beating in sync to a slow and steady rhythm.

.

.

.

.

On some day they'll go picnicking together, as if they weren't spending enough time with one another.

They ate, they talked, then they both fell silent, a comfortable sensation covering them both as they simply enjoyed each other's presence as well as the nature around them.

Sukuna's head was laid on Yuuji's laps. Gentle fingers ran through his hair and massaged his scalp; the sun kept them warm and a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees around them.

Yuuji had already zoned out, moving his hands automatically in a way that felt right to him, whereas Sukuna had started to drift off to sleep.

Small moments of peace they wish could last forever

[kibu-me]

rider kogatas!

[queenofbaws]

oh wouldya lookit that

it's thinking about angela orosco o'clock

[spotaus]

New Age au (A Day at Dream's)

Hey y'all! This is another pre-story Drabble, this time from Dream's perspective! Exiled prince doing his best to interact with the populous and do his daily tasks! This was mainly just an attempt from me to get back into writing for this au, and ofc, fleshing out Dream! Hope y'all enjoy!

(Who do I normally tag? @ancha-aus @papiliovolens @mutzelputz I believe? Welcome back y'all!)

The morning was warm, something that Dream had to be grateful for. Ever since the incident, it seemed like he was faced with far more cloudy days than sunny ones, even in the midst of summer. The winters froze so harshly that trees would splinter at the branch, limbs cracking like cannon shots in the nights. The spring was full of awful thunder storms that spewed lightning and wrought floods, and the fall was constantly welcoming wind storms that threw around the rotten remains of plants all about. Even Blue had to admit that the weather was much worse here than his home kingdom, after the first year they’d spent at the very border of Orchard. 

Summers were hit and miss, either clinging to the traces of those awful storms, making everything sticky and humid, or beginning the dry season. This morning, as far as Dream could tell, might’ve finally been the start of a dry season. The garden didn’t seem to be swamped, it didn’t seem to be wilted either. The plants always seemed to know when rain was coming, because their leaves would downturn. After so many years, Dream made it a habit to glance out one of the back windows to make sure he knew just what to expect from the day.

Buttoning his over-cloak, he found himself lingering at the window for a second. He knew he’d have to talk with a returning scouting party later in the afternoon, their most survived thus far, but beyond that there wasn’t much else. Go about the camp, see if he could boost morale, maybe get in a training session with Blue…

Speaking of Blue, his loyal knight was seemingly nowhere to be found. 

Dream took a moment, crossing the quaint living room of their cabin to squint at the sky. Hmm, already past midday. He had been up rather late last night, night terrors plaguing him as they often did nowadays. He must’ve slept in, Blue had always been an early riser. Up just before the sun, back to bed late in the evening. Dream was pretty sure the only days he hadn’t seen Blue out on a morning jog were those that he asked the other to stick around. For safety, for planning, for breakfast… If he knew Blue well enough, which he liked to think he did, Blue was probably out right about now helping the supply carts unload to the outer tents. They always came in on the 2nd of every month, and the calendar marked it as such. Bless Blue for keeping such good track of affairs. 

The prince was practiced as he pulled on his remaining accessories. His archery gloves, which carried up to his elbows, and the thick leather boots gifted to him by a cobbler in the closest village. The boots were durable and comfortable, and while they weren’t the morst appealing at first, Blue had suggested that they find someone to embroider them with Dream’s symbol, the sun. They’d done so, asking one of the refugees they’d taken in if she could, and now they felt much more homey. Of course, it’d been several years now and they were looking worse for wear, but he’d grown a bit sentimental. 

These things were his, and he could keep them as long as he liked. No one here cared if they were mud-stained and threadbare in a few places, they were always looking at his face, after all. 

The moment they were buckled securely, Dream took the chance to stroll towards the door and push outside. 

Just as his plants suggested, the air was warm and dry, something which was deeply familiar to him, and admittedly placed him into a much warmer mood. Especially because, with the good weather, folks had gone about and placed their tapestries outside again. Banners and hanging pieces, all adorned with the shapes of the sun, in bright yellows, striking orange, and even some with that familiar pink accent. Usually, when it rained or snowed, they’d place the expensive and valuable symbols inside for safety, but with the warm air it felt only right that he could once again see his colors flying. 

It reminded him why he was doing all this. He had to regain power, to usurp his brother. Free him from whoever was whispering lies into his ears. Be crowned and see his sun in place of the moons which had infected every inch of the capital and many cities beyond. Though, for now, this was good enough. His own little paradise. 

The walk int the campsite proper was a little ways out from the cabin, a slightly thinner trail through a thin set of trees. Enough that he could see the camp, but the camp wasn’t directly connected to his little house, he needed his privacy every once in a while. 

From even the short walk away he could hear that the camp must’ve been bustling. Warm weather tended to make all of his people more active, it was familiar and welcoming, and rife with time to finish tasks like chores, or playing games, or, even better yet, training. Here there was no dedicated guard like back home, but the militia was very involved in wanting to learn combat, and Blue was certainly a good motivator for them. The clashing of steel and grunting of labored movements was one of several clue-ins that he’d have to stop by the little patch of dirt they used as a training arena of sorts. Off to the side of camp, with a few benches, a shed to store practice weapons, and several targets for aiming practice. Nothing fancy, but certainly enough for these people to learn. 

The prince could hardly help himself as he stepped into the camp proper and slipped that way. 

Each step passed colorful tents, heavy canvas died different colors by whoever most often occupied them. Some tenets were larger, housing the folks who stayed here as their home, run out of whatever village or city drove them off. Others were smaller, filled with supplies or individual tents for guests, dedicated to their returns. 

Dream passed Inl’s tent and smiled to himself in the silence. The inside fo the tent was piled high with half-finished paintings and splattered all over with different pigments. Paint was an expensive commodity, but Ink always seemed to know just how to make the brightest pigments out of the most random objects, plants and rocks and leaves he found on the ground, it was magical. The only thing he’d ever finished when he stayed at the camp for that brief while was the painting which Dream had practically begged him for, a royal portrait, or sorts. Dream sat atop a throne, Blue stood beside him at perfect attention, holding the sun-themed banner. It had been perfect, and it was another of Dream’s prized possessions. After that, Ink hadn’t had the focus to do any of the other paintings he started, but many of them were about tails of Dream’s usurpment, tails of tragedy told to him by the people, made in rough color splashes or with a big chunk of white at a corner where he lost his focus and moved on. Dream had gone inside once to make sure Ink hadn’t left anything behind before he left, but decided it felt lifeless and cold without the artist inside.And besides, Ink could never quite draw Nightmare right. Even though he’d drawn Dream perfectly, and they were identical twins, something always felt off about those pieces. 

The brief moment thinking about the artist fled. He was surely off killing some corrupt noble right about now for his own corrupt pay, and it was frankly none of Dream’s business so long as Ink wasn’t after his own people. 

His boots carried lightly over the soft grass, trodden down by the constant walking about camp. Light green and pretty, his heels sunk into soft soil beneath like some sort of bog, but it didn’t bother him a bit. If he had his way, the sun would stay out all day and dry up the ground a bit, make it more even and solid. Easier to walk over, less likely to slip into. 

To just his luck, only a few people spotted him in passing, waving or calling out to him, and a smile and a wave of recognition was all they needed to move on with their days. His aura must’ve been getting stronger, because he could only taste the ambient contentment from the entire camp as he wandered his way towards his destination. 

And, soon enough, it was upon him. That little patch of ground where the sounds had been coming from. Where the magic of monsters and the energy of humans were all alight with passion and focus. It was a wonder they all stayed so committed. Though, Dream had learned fairly quickly that people like these, who worked in farms, or crafts, making their money day to day, would work harder than any other person he’d ever met. Plus, it wasn’t nearly as hard for them to train as others. These very people could wrangle a steer with their bare hands, so all they needed was the fine-tuning and weapon training, none of the strenght building which usually took so long. 

That was probably why, now, they were as adept as they were with their weapons. Swords and halberds and morning stars and hammers, all of them clashed with another weapon or a practice dummy. Of course, there were only about 10 people out and about at the moment, but a few others sat on the sidelines. 

There was a brief moment where he was simply stood there. Something about combat, the thrill of the sounds and the movements and the force behind each swing, it was all mesmerising to him. He’d always been a natural with long-range weapons, and they were the only ones his mother ever approved of him using. Staying out of the direct line of fire, attacking from far away, that was what would protect his physical body, and his image. If he was struck in a fight, then people would look poorly upon him. Of course, if he’d become King he could’ve done anything. Could’ve learned the sword, or even daggers, and gotten up close and personal. Seen the flurry of emotions fly through his opponents eyes even before he tasted them. No mother to tell him no, no babysitter, nothing. Just him and the battle. 

Alas, here he is, still using his arrows, and still not using close-combat weaponry, unlike the training warriors before him. In fact, he was pretty positive he was one of the only people who actually used the arrow range, even if he didn’t need to anymore. Shots were engrained into his mind, muscle memory practically as easy as sleeping. Maybe easier, actually. 

Regardless, he found himself forcing his eyelights past the forms of the fighting parties, and instead skimmed for Blue. Dream didn’t want to interact with the merchants today, but he knew Blue’s next stop would most likely be here. He couldn’t ever pass up as great a day as this to practice.

“Prince Dream!” The call for him was loud and excited, and a hot rush of child-like wonder burned through his focus as he stood waiting. 

His eyelights shot over, catching sight of a monster he knew should be familiar to him. There very very few people who brought their little ones to the camp, for safety reasons mostly, and those who did often had very subdued children, ones who rarely spoke or played or caused trouble. This child was entirely different. Dream always knew they were nearby, because children’s emotions were far more potent. Adult emotions felt like a warm bath, while children’s joy, for example, was like someone had splashed hot tea onto his lap. Not painful, but far more striking. 

The tyke who rushed towards him now was giggling in high-pitched squeals and stared at him with two bright orange eyelights, beig and round. He was a little skeleton, maybe four, who had white bones with splotches of a greyish hue splattered across his face and hands. Today he was wearing a little white and yellow tunic which had obviously taken some falls into the grass since he put it on that morning.

“Copper, what did we say about running with the practice blade?” Another voice called out, this one deeper and far more familiar to Dream.

The little one, who Dream now spotted was carrying a dulled wooden dagger in one of his clumsy hands, bolted past Dream’s legs, only to pivot and rush in circles around him with an energy unmatched and giggles that were unrivaled in joy. HE was obviously getting enjoyment out of causing mischief for his guardian. 

Dream’s gaze traveled away from Copper with his smile in-tact, not getting a look at the adult whom he knew he knew. Eclipse, one of Copper’s two parents. He was also a skeleton, older than Dream by at least a decade, and much taller with broader shoulders. His bones were a perfect white, his face a bit long, and his eyelights a simple white. He was wearing a tunic not unlike his son, but adorned with all sorts of belts and a heavy fur wrapped around his shoulders despite the heat. It was a dark brown, his partner’s prized pelt. 

Of course, he should’ve expected to see Eclipse sometime today. He’d been eagerly awaiting his partner’s return from the mission. They’d be back tonight.

“Eclipse, how have you been?” Dream asked courteously, drawing his eyes back to Copper with a plan rapidly forming. 

Eclipse came to a halt beside him, at least an arm’s length away, and sighed a fond sigh. “I am faring well, all considered. Since Ichor went off for this mission, Copper’s been insisting that he has to learn to fight so he can protect us.” Eclipse said. “I apologize for his antics, he’s insisted that he start training right away.”

Eclipse sounded humored, but Dream could feel the tiredness seeping from his shoulders. A tension that was surely weighing on him. For a moment, it had entirely slipped his mind, but a glance confirmed his suspicion. Ichor and Eclipse had been away from camp fro a few weeks, about four months back. They’d had a soulling, and now it sat bundled in Eclipse’s arms, quiet and content, probably sleeping. Something warmed Dream’s heart, knowing that this little skelton was under the impression that he could defend his father and little sibling. 

Dream chuckled under his breath and gave a genuine grin, letting a small burst of positivity wave away from his core, pushing back a bit of Eclipse’s worry along with it. 

“No need to be sorry, I was eager to train when I was young too.” Dream confided, but before Eclipse could give a response, Dream crouched and shot his arms out, catching Copper under the arms and practically tossing him up into the air. He was obviously taken by surprise, because he shrieked with glee and stared at Dream with his big eyelights and the biggest smile. He looked a lot like his other parent, Dream realized. 

Copper giggled and Dream held him aloft. Copper hardly weighed anything, and it was a little cute how he kicked his muddy little boots in the open air as Dream held him aloft. He was entirely unbothered by his capture, and the energy obviously had yet to fade. 

“So, you want to be big and strong to protect your father and little sibling?” Dream asked to Copper, making a mock serious face, obviously exaggerated and playful. 

Copper gasped and nodded rapidly, excitedly brandishing his little wooden dagger. “Papa gave me dis! I stab any bad guys!” He insisted excitedly, swishing it around wildly in his little hand, arm limited to his side by the way Dream was holding him. 

Now this was an excited little fellow. Very cute and lively. Dream wondered if he ad this much energy, rushing ahead of his twin to get out into the courtyard and run around, climb the trees when their babysitter wasn’t looking. Nightmare sometimes wrestled with him, he missed those days. 

“Well, I thin you have the makings to be a brave warrior!” Dream encouraged, Copper wriggling happily in his grip, “Just remember, your papa and father want to keep you safe too, so listen to them, alright? That’s how you can get to be just as strong as them.” 

This was met by Copper’s nodding yet again, “So, don’t go running with that dangerous blade, alright? You might accidentally stab a not-bad guy.” Dream added, to which Copper gasped.

The little boy pulled one of his hands to cover up his mouth with wide eyes, shaking his head vigorously. “I won’t stab a not-bad guy! Only bad bad guys!” He insisted. 

Dream just shook his head and tutted, “I know, I know, but accidents happen! My friend Ink, he fights with knives sometimes, and he tripped and almost stabbed someone right in the eye once!” Dream exclaimed, and closed his right socket dramatically. 

This seemed to make Copper hold back a growing smile, and instead his expression was something almost close to a pout. His best attempt at a serious face, Dream had to imagine. Copper nodded one singular, forceful, nod this time. Some sort fo silent pledge not to run with his dagger anymore. 

Dream smiled at him, “Good, good! First step to becoming a strong warrior, listen to your parents.” he insisted, before lowering Copper down with a smooth motion. 

The kid giggled again as Dream rustled the top of his skull, and Copper made careful steps towards his dad, an obvious attempt at suddenly being responsible with the harmless wooden blade. Dream was a little proud, usually he did much worse with kids, had to resort to his magic. Maybe Blue was rubbing off on him after all.

“You really are a miracle-worker, my Prince.” Eclipse said softly, reaching one of his own hands down to gently caress the top of Copper’s skull. He nuzzled into his father’s leg and hugged it, attention distracted by watching the other fight not far off from them. 

Dream didn’t deny it, and instead just slunk a bit closer. He peered down at the babybones wrapped in Eclipse’s arm, held snug in place by a sling. It was pearly white just like its brother, but had a slightly longer face with pronounced cheekbones. Dream couldn’t help but notice the tension return to Eclipse’s emotions. 

“What’s their name, have you two decided yet? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to check in with you sooner.” Dream asked.

Eclipse seemed unbothered when Dream lifted a hand and gently brushed it against the babybone’s skull. It didn’t stir, didn’t even seem to register the contact. 

“His name is Steel.” Eclipse answered softly, “I told Ichor we wouldn’t be naming any more after metal alloys, but I can never say no to him. Steel’s eyelights are a beautiful shade of metallic silver, it was just too fitting.” Eclipse muttered. “And please, don’t trouble yourself with it. We are well aware of how busy you have been.” 

Eclipse gently bounced his arm a bit, and the babybones curled a bit closer to his chest, burying into the fur cloak draped over Eclipse’s shoulders. He seemed a bit more at ease as the little one gave a little smile in his sleep.

“Handsome name, Ichor has good taste I’m afraid.” Dream teased, eliciting a smale laugh from Eclipse.

“Do you think he’ll make it home safe, my prince?” Eclipse suddenly asked. 

Dream blinked in surprise, looking up to Eclipse. The other skeleton still had his eyes on the babybones tucked against his chest, but Dream had a feeling he was being watched nonetheless.

“You mean Ichor?” He asked, and to a hum of confirmation, he tilted his head with a grin, “I’m sure he’ll come home safe and sound. Blue’s been sure to send him on non-combat missions, and with plenty of back-up and supplies. We both know that he has a family waiting for him here, we wouldn’t send him anywhere dangerous.” 

That was a lie. Dream didn’t have any qualms about it. He just knew it was a lie. Every mission was dangerous, could turn to combat, and might end in death. Every person here, as much as Blue tried to deny, was expendable. They were part of a cause, they had to be. Of course, Dream would never put children in danger, but Ichor, just like every other person here, came willingly looking to help. He volunteered his family for this willingly. 

Of course, that isn’t what people like to hear. So, he’ll tell him things he’s heard Blue say. Blue was so kind-hearted, a softie. The moment he heard Ichor and Eclipse were having another soulling he’d re-assigned all their missions and work, and even after they’d both recovered, after Ichor was no longer carrying, he sent the guy on the easier missions. Blue didn’t want to split a family. 

Eclipse sighed, almost with relief, at Dream’s words. “Thank you, my Prince. I suppose I’m just worried over nothing. I’ve been known to do such silly things.” Eclipse relented, and smiled. It was tired, but much happier than before. Dream’s aura must’ve finally gotten to him. Broken down those worries. 

“Anytime, Eclipse. I suppose I’ll see you at their return tonight?” Dream voiced, though he knew the answer. Of course he’d be there. 

Eclipse only took a few more moments, wishing Dream a good rest of the day, before he ushered his son foreward and off elsewhere. Dream waved goodbye to them until they passed a corner, and he internally sighed in relief as he turned back to his original goal. 

Dream moved closer by a few paces and plopped himself down onto one of the benches, one side left empty by someone who had just rushed onto the field. He summoned his bow to his hands and fiddled with the string, and ill-disguised attempt at seeming busy as he just watched the proceeding spars. 

So many people stopped him daily around camp, often simply wanting to chat and catch up on their lives. Eclipse’s new babybones was, thankfully, the most exciting piece of news in the last few months, but before that was a wedding between a bunny monster and a hare monster, before that was the death of someone’s spouse and a subsequent burial, before that siblings reunited, they all had their own stories and things to keep track of. Dream found it trivial, but unfortunately, everyone expected him to now these things, remember them, keep track and ask when they met outside of business times. If he wanted these people to stay, he needed to know. 

His only grace was that Blue was very talented in chatting. Where Dream could rouse crowds and battalions, Blue thrived in a setting of just one or two, and somehow knew just about everything about everyone. They’d talk over dinner, about what they did while split up doing their duties. Dream would tell him about the state of the garden, or the new map he managed to draw up with the cartographer, while blue would tell him all the latest menial news. Crushes, holiday plans, when new people were coming in, all of it. He was always so happy, that Dream simply learned to remember it through him. Shockingly an easy feat. 

The clanging of swords and the heat were both a welcome comfort, Dream was soaking in the sun like some sort of lizard on its rock.

Dream just hoped he wouldn’t eat his words later. Blue had sent ichor and a few others on a mission to simply attend the latest ball, and annual celebration for one of his brother’s elite knights. The Criminal, he thought, the one with the tiger mask. Killer. The parties hadn’t had conflict in the four years they’d been running, and Dream was pretty sure ichor wouldn’t go missing. Yet, anyone they sent directly to the capital had a habit of not returning. Blue had forbade him from sending more spies that way, and had only agreed to send a small party because the ball was meant to be open to the public, so they wouldn’t be technically intruding or trespassing. Along with that, Ichor wasn’t directly affiliated with their cause. Eclipse, up until now, was usually the one more familiar with intel-work. Ichor had always been more focused on welfare and support. So, Ichor couldn’t be recognized. ‘

Dream would just have a lot of explaining to do if his promise went awry. Grieving souls were never easy, especially those who had children in tow. They often loved the hardest, and fell shortly after their beloved. Frankly, Dream didn’t want to lose two promising members of the rebellion, or be left with their children in the worst case scenario.

The prince sighed to himself. Blue would scold him for thinking like this. Maybe he should worry less about the return party and more about his own training. He couldn’t risk getting rusty now. 

-     -

Dream was aware the range was a bit out of his sight from where he’d wandered off to get a drink of water, but when he returned, he hadn’t expected to find an arrow embed itself into the block he was passing beside. 

He jumped a bit with the force of the heavy thunk and almost choked on his own breath when he spotted exactly who was actually training with a bow of all things. 

Across the range, looking wide-eyed and surprised, was Blue! He had their heavy long-bow clutched in his right hand, an arrow hanging to his side y his left, and a whole slew of arrows leaned against the fence behind him, the kind with thin, piercing points that could tear through armor. Dream had never been more baffled, amused, and amazed all in one. Why was Blue training archery?

“Dream! Hey!” Blue called out, and he sounded a bit awkward. 

Dream took a moment to examine the arrow which had pieced the block of hay they were using as a target. It had entirely missed the circle, actually passing itself at an odd angle through he side, the point poking out from the other end haphazardly. That must’ve used a lot of force if nothing else. 

Actually, it seemed Blue might’s been making some progress. Dream had been gone for almost half an hour, caught up in talk with one of the new refugees, welcoming them to the camp. That had given his knight plenty of time to try more than enough shots. Dream spotted now the several arrows which had dug themselves into the dirt, all at a downward falling angle as through Blue had been aiming for the dirt. Then, beyond the hay bale, he could see that several trees in the woods beyond had arrows embedded in them. He didn’t know how he’d missed them, honestly. 

Dream circled back and gripped one which had dug into a pine tree’s skinny trunk, and tugged with all his might. He nearly stumbled, and the end of the arrow seemed to have sap coating it, like blood of the tree itself. 

Dream actually laughed as he finally approached his knight, the arrow in-hand. 

“If you wanted syrup so badly, we could’ve asked for some on the resupply.” Dream joked.

He tapped the shaft of the arrow to the top of Blue’s skull, and the knight sheepishly ducked away from the sticky feeling, the arrow moving with him for a moment before springing away. Blue’s eyelights didn’t evade Dream’s, but Dream couldn’t help but notice the embarrassment becoming far more potent from his friend. 

“Ah, yes, you see…” Blue started, before pausing, “I had no intention of harming the flora.” Blue said, though it seemed a bit half-hearted. 

Blue rubbed at his skull as he lowered the long-bow from his front, down to his side. It was a huge weapon, with a string practically made of metal. Dream didn’t usually bother with the long-bows, sticking to the normal bows, or in desperate situations, crossbows. It took way too much power to shoot a longbow for his liking, limited movement. Usually people on horses used them. Dream couldn’t see the light leave someone’s eye from atop a finicky horse. 

“It was a good shot, even if you didn’t mean to hit the poor tree, Blue.” Dream amended. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Blue, it was obvious the mood was tanking with Dream’s ill-timed jokes. “Can I ask why you’re trying out the long-bow today?” 

The feeling of Blue’s pride washing over Dream like a comforting blanket as the other seemed to get a second wind. He puffed his chest and lifted the bow right in front of him again. 

“The Magnificent Blue has actually been learning to shoot for some time! The smaller ones that you use are not very cooperative, but this large one does well!” The explained proudly, “It was meant to be a surprise, but I would not lie to you!” 

He seemed largely unbothered by the fact that this secret of his had just been broken wide open. Though, Dream had to imagine this had been going on for a while now. The last time Dream had seen Blue attempt to shoot an arrow, it had narrowly avoided breaking their window in the back garden. They still had a notch in the wall on the back porch, because Dream begged Blue not to fill it in. He’d laughed so hard, and back then he’d needed a good-

“Wait, why was it going to be a surprise?” Dream asked curiously, raising a brow to watch Blue.

The knight laughed loudly, “Because! The plan was to get very very good at it, and then join you for a practice one day and show you! I know you are very talented with lond-range weapons, and if I were too, then I could fight beside you without placing you in danger! You mentioned it once, a while back.” Blue explained as though it was the simplest thing in the world. 

Dream felt a little something in his chest shift to the left as he processed what Blue was referencing. He had mentioned that. Back when they had to scare off some bandits during their trip here, before they found the cottage. He wished Blue hadn’t had to charge in while Dream sat up in a tree and shot at them. Dream had wanted to be in the fray, but… Blue thought he wanted them both to be long range fighters? So they could stay close? 

That was up there with some of the most heartwarming things Blue had ever done for Dream. Trust him, there were a LOT of heartwarming things Blue had done. This was surely, however, in the top 15. 

“Oh, that’s kind of you.” Dream said gently, 

In his distraction, Blue had knocked another arrow and lifted it up. Lined it. Drew the string back. Released. 

The heavy string cut through the air with a vocal slapping noise, and both skeletons watched idly as the arrow arced through the air and just hardly skimmed the top of the hay bail, chunking into the ground somewhere behind it instead. There was a moment of Blue letting out a breath and calmly lowering the bow before he grinned again at Dream. His expression was so concentrated not two moments before. 

“You know that I would do anything for you, Dream. Besides, using a bow is rather fun! I was unaware of how careful you have to be while firing, and setting it up, and aiming.” He listed off with a laugh. 

Now the bow was back at Blue’s side, and Dream was even a bit impressed with his bow etiquette. It wasn’t pressed to the first at his side, he wasn’t fidgeting and bending it, even his motions before he hadn’t dared to dryfire with it. He wondered if Blue had picked it up from him, or if he’d sought out advice from another bowman somewhere. Either way.

“I never meant to discourage you from using your hammer, Blue. I know you’re the happiest while fighting with it.” Dream said earnestly, “But if you wish to continue working with the long-bow, I’m sure I could give you a few pointers.” 

At the enthused expression he received from his knight, Dream grinned, “And then maybe you could teach me to use a hammer. Or, maybe a morning star? They always seemed to have a fitting name.” Dream teased, but Blue seemed even more delighted by the thought.

“That sounds great! We should start now!” Blue agreed, and readied his bow again. 

Dream was a bit startled, but couldn’t bring himself to deny the enthusiasm. After all, he’d been hoping to train with Blue today anyways. 

He watched again as Blue lined up his shot, but this time, he actually watched carefully. He moved behind Blue, and immediately saw a smidge of problem. 

“Here, lift your elbow a bit higher.” He instructed, He stepped forward and set his hand under Blue’d elbow, the one which was pulling his arrow back. He shifted under the touch and stopped right where Dream stopped nudging. Immediately his posture looked a lot better, and his aim seemed more sure. 

“Try pointing a bit further to the right, you’re leaning left.” He added on, and saw Blue squint a bit harder at his target, before repositioning his aim, shifting his feet along with it before Dream could say anything. 

Then, when Dream gave the commend to release, Blue sent the arrow flying. 

This time, it whistled as it shot and struck the bail right at the top ring of the target, almost dead center. Blue whooped an excitement, and Dream hummed. He could’ve sworn that would’ve hit the bullseye…

Without much through, Dream summoned his own bow and took aim from Blue’s side. His night went quiet, watching intently, and Dream let loose his arrow with less than half the preparation time, hardly a thought. Just as he’d expected of Blue’s, the arrow pierced the center of the ring flawlessly, though it didn’t sink in nearly as deep. His brow furrowed as the stared at the target. Why hadn’t Blue’s shot done that?

Sure, the bow was heavier, the arrow too, but the fundamentals should’ve been the same. The golden arrow and landed below the other one, why was that?

“Dream?” Blue’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Dream blinked at Blue, and Blue stared back at him, seeming mildly worried.

“My apologies, could you try hitting my arrow? I’ll spot you again.” Dream requested, and Blue just nodded and prepared himself again. 

This time, Blue automatically placed his elbow up and turned himself to the right. Dream didn’t even need to do more than a little nudge to his arm to encourage a slight but more movement to the right. Blue should strike this perfectly.

The arrow flew, beautifully with a bit of a spin, and… Lodged a few inches to the left of the target. He was aiming right! How-

Ohhhhhh.

“That was great, Blue! You had everything but an extra set of eyes to direct you, good work!” Dream praised.

Now Blue celebrated properly, wrapping his arms around Dream’s sides in a heavy hug. A familiar one that Dream returned, as he realized how silly he had been for a moment. His arrows weren’t affected by the wind. Blue’s weren’t magic, so of course the air would throw them off course! For a brief, horrifying, moment he worried he’d somehow stumbled in his directions. It was just the wind. 

Blue's hug was tight and affectionate, and very very welcome. Dream savored it, returning it tightly, until Blue released him and raised the bow once more. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to train until the caravan arrived in a few hours.

-    -    

Poor choices. He didn’t make many, but he wasn’t going to try and claim that training right up until the arrival was a good call. All he was expected to do was welcome them back, and then listen toIchor recount any important information they’d picked up on, but still. He didn’t enjoy being all grimy and sweaty and middy was the best look or the most comfortable. His only solace was that Blue was equally messay, so he didn’t feel too out of place.

Ask they approached the path into camp, they saw that the light of a lantern was glowing just a bit down the way, and there alone the road stood the sentinels for the night, and Eclipse. 

Eclipse still wore that same tunic as before, though it had gained a grass stain along the bottom hem, no doubt from Copper breaking off at a full sprint at some point during the day. The skeleton himself was without his children, and when Blue greeted him and asked, it turned out he’d left them with someone named Jodie. One of the humans, he believed, a kind elderly woman here with her adult son. Eclipse looked exhausted, but Dream could tell is must’ve been from building worry. Nim help him and make sure that Ichor returns on that cart in one piece.

They stood there together in the quiet, and when the carriage pulled to a stop before them, Dream counted as each person hopped off and stood at attention before himself and Blue. One, two, three, for, five, six, seven… Eight. Ichor must’ve been looking to give his partner a soul-attack, because he was the last of the party to jump off the back of the cart, a thick bag slung over his back and his grin wide and stupid as ever.

Dream acted like he didn’t notice as Eclipse bowled into Ichor’s side, nearly tripping the both of them over and into the grass. Technically, procedure was that Dream would be the first to hear any of them speak, as they could’ve been keeping secrets. However, he knew better than to get between lover birds. That was more of a headache than it was worth. 

Only when the two were done and Eclipse gave Ichor a swift peck on the forehead did Dream usher everyone into the debriefing tent to discuss their findings.

“You’re saying he’s bringing in new knights?” Dream questioned.

Everyone had been explaining their stories, but it seemed that Ichor had managed to get the closest. Hear the most. A servant had tripped over him and spilled a red wine on his suit, so he followed them back to the servants halls to get it cleaned up. Because he was so amicable, the maids weren’t very quiet and told him exciting news. Two more knights being trained.

Ichor had asked more, as much as he dared, but all he could get was that one of them was straight out of the dungeon, and the other one was burly and definitely a foreigner. Some sort of hired body, they swore. It’d be fall when the next party was rumored to be happening. 

Dream hated to hear such a thing. The first criminal was enough, but this second one? And then another? Dream couldn’t fathom what sorts of horrible plans were being fed into his twin’s mind, what horrid plans they were going to enact, criminals and thugs running the country by his brother’s side? 

He sighed a bit, resting a hand against his chin. 

“Did you see my twin at all?” He asked then, to the group.

Ichor was the only one to nod, and Dream gestured to him. 

“The guy was just as guarded as ya said. The Tiger kept circling back up to the balcony where he was hanging, but the stairs were all blocked off by guards, and some other folks were sitting up there with him. Magic on one of ‘em was strong.” Ichor explained, and Dream squinted as the torchlight glinted off of the skeleton’s single gold tooth. Now his pelt had been returned to him, and he looked perfectly barbaric, like the first day Dream had seen him. 

“Mm, unfortunate. My brother is smart, he wouldn’t spare any detail in his protection, I suppose.” Dream muttered, before simply nodding. “Thank you, all. I’m sure you’ve had a tiring past few nights. Go to your tents and rest up, I’ll call upon you if I need to speak with you again sometime later in the week.” 

He didn’t really want to dismiss them, but it was obvious half of them had gotten drunk off their asses within the first five minutes of being at the party. Ichor was really the only one with any good information, and even then, it was extremely limited. Of course, Dream had to be grateful that Nightmare must’ve been slipping with controlling the tittering tongues of his servants, it saved him the trouble of having to wait any longer for information. 

Nightmare adding new, dangerous, knights was not ideal, 

He watched as the party slowly filtered out, some stumbling, some half-awake, and even Ichor yawning as he ducked out of the tent. The only one who didn’t immediately flee was Blue, who sat for a few minutes longer before popping to his feet, gathering the notes strewn across the table, and helping Dream to his feet. 

Together, they left the tent and moved back to the cottage. By now it was far into the night, and Dream could see the stars out. The moon, a thin crescent, seemed to mock him as he took careful steps in the darkness of the path.  At least he’d gotten to enjoy the remaining sun the day had gifted him. 

When they entered the cottage, Dream groaned and moved immediately for the couch. He could try to sleep, but he knew Blue still had to do his nightly routine, and he wouldn't be able to rest with the new information that had been provided. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Blue said unprompted from across the main room. 

His friend was organizing the papers from tonight into a nice little box where they kept all the notes for their plans, and when he placed it back on the shelf, he moved over to the dummy in the corner of the room where he always hung his armor. Every night. 

“I know we will, it’s just…” Ough, he couldn’t say it! This was so infuriating! Every scout who managed to come back only brought him worse and worse news. 

“Do you know, or are you just saying that? Because I know that I know we can figure this out! Two monsters can’t make the difference in a coup!” Blue stated matter-of-factly as he undid the buckles on his chest plate and lifted it up onto its rightful spot. Next followed the boots and Dream watched him. The prince was practically deflated on the cushions of the old couch, a pillow quickly tugged into this arms. 

He was right. Dream knew it, he usually was after all. Still. It wasn’t the fighting that worried him. No, he and Blue alone could probably beat up whatever petty criminals were cabhorting with his twin. It was just… 

“I do. I just- I- I don’t know how my twin could be so stupid!” He exclaimed, practically burying his skull into the pillow, bringing his knees up to his chest, practically curling into a ball. “He was meant to be my advisor, he was the clever one. How could he resort to killers and hired mercenaries. After all those classes he used to tell me about, all the lessons he had to go to, how could he decide to take this path?” He said, hoping his voice was muffled by the cushion.

Unfortunately, like most items in this cottage, it seemed to be cheap and only decorative. No muffling capabilities in sight. He heard Blue sigh, and for a few minutes, the only noise was Blue removing the rest of his armor. 

When it faded, he strained to listen, and caught the floorboards creaking ever so gently under the weight of his friend’s approach. Then there was a pause, and then a weight on Dream’s skull. It trailed heavily down his neck and to his shoulders, before repeating itself. A soothing motion, one that Dream resisted for a moment. 

“I never got to meet him, but I do know you! I think we can definitely knock some sense back into him.” Blue reassured him, and this time Dream listened. 

Blue was right, after all. Blue had been able to knock sense into Dream. If anyone could bring Nightmare back to his senses, it would be Blue. 

He let the skeleton keep doing that comforting motion against his skull for a few more minutes, savoring the contact, before he sighed heavily and shrugged. Blue retracted his hand, and was watching Dream with a soft smile when the prince finally lifted his head. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, before Dream smiled back. 

They both really needed to get some rest. 

[moonfurthetemmie]

so like. lucidity and his version of nightmare.

Officially the nature of Lucidity's feelings regarding Nightmare is up to interpretation, but due to the nature of DreamSwap, damn near anything is possible. and i'm gonna just play with the idea of it being romantic for a bit.

Nightmare definitely had a crush on Dream when they were kids. Like. That's actually canon. Dream I don't think ever knew.

Lucidity certainly didn't.

But if any of those feelings remain, Lucidity will notice pretty quickly now. Unless him going evil has finally made Nightmare go 'oh jesus christ no', which I find unlikely since Nightmare also finds out that Lucidity still cares about him at about the same time. that's going to complicate things a bit.

i could go on this tangent about a hyper-specific scenario i had in my head, but it'd involve way too much backstory about an overly complicated AU that isn't ready to be shared yet, so i'll just stow that away and pull out the basic themes of it.

If Lucidity ever happens upon Nightmare when he's in danger, Lucidity won't hesitate to try and save him. Generally Nightmare doesn't get into the kind of trouble where he needs saving, but Lucidity's fucking paranoid about losing people, so he just swoops in and gets rid of the problem as fast as possible no matter how small it is, or if Nightmare seems to be handling it just fine.

This wouldn't change if, somehow, probably through some outside interference, their destiny bond was broken.

if Nightmare's crush hasn't fully gone away, and if Lucidity really does save his ass from certain doom, that crush is going to suddenly come back like 10x worse and he's going to be a mess about it.

Lucidity would love to have Nightmare stay with him, Shale, and Nightshade. If he wasn't absolutely convinced that Nightmare's moral compass was so strong he'd only agree so he could try and stop them from their shit by messing stuff up from the inside, he'd have given the offer to Nightmare ages ago. This applies to non-romantic versions as well, but in the romantic version Lucidity is also looking for a way for him, Shale, and Nightshade to get along. His boyfriends don't all have to date, but they need to be able to peacefully co-exist. otherwise things are going to be. uh. difficult

He's right about Nightmare, though. Even if Nightmare's romantic feelings for him got turned up to 11, he's not just going to run off with him. He's kind of thinking about it, but in a 'how can i get him to Not Do This and just stay with me' way, rather than 'would it really be so bad? it's not like he's going to hurt me. or people I care about. ...right?'

cross and error would be teasing Nightmare about being a disaster gay, but they're a little more concerned that he's considering it at all. In any way. He's also really distressed about this, and they absolutely understand why! no fucking idea how to help him though.

All that said, Lucidity is trying to figure something out. He doesn't necessarily need Nightmare to love him (romantically), he just needs to make absolutely fucking sure that Nightmare stays near and stays safe. And is happy staying with him, without trying to interfere. romantic feelings can be considered afterwards.

I have no idea if that's going to work out for him. It probably will in one timeline, because i love making things worse, but I'm not sure how yet, or if that will be the main timeline.

I do know that it'll be a hell of a lot harder so long as Cross and Error are there. Even if Nightmare's too busy being a fucking disaster to remember-slash-notice, those two are absolutely going to notice that lucidity's being Weird. And his boyfriends are, too. They might not pick up on what exactly it is but they'll figure it out eventually. And they're certainly not letting nightmare go off alone to see Lucidity and his boyfriends; especially not fucking Shale

'fucking shale' (adjective + noun; derogatory) doesn't have the same ring to it as 'fucking obsidian' (adjective + noun; derogatory)

Nightmare might think they're overreacting sometimes, but they've konwn each other long enough and been through enough together that, unless lucidity can talk to him alone and make him doubt his friends, he absolutely trusts their judgement. Even if Lucidity does get him alone, Nightmare knows that Lucidity never had a great opinion of Cross, so pretty much anything negative he says about her is going to be taken with a whole mountain of salt chunks. And once he starts on Cross, Nightmare will be more dubious about anything negative Lucidity says about Error.

Nightmare's very smart. And he's had some bad run-ins with people. He knows to look out for certain things. He knows he shouldn't trust Lucidity after he's clearly lost his head and has been hanging out with a couple of nasty bastards (whom night may or may not know are manipulative pieces of shit anyways).

Unfortunately, he (and also Cross and Error, admittedly) is still having trouble believing that Lucidity's changed this much in such a short amount of time. The Lucidity he knew before, who ran Justice Reigns, wouldn't try to turn him against his friends just for his own gain. The Lucidity he knew before wouldn't try to manipulate him at all. And if his crush has gotten way way stronger, that's...that's probably going to color his perception a bit. No matter how hard he tries to do otherwise.

Also. As a general rule I consider breaking the destiny bond a Good Thing. While neither of them are likely to try to get themselves killed, it’s nice to know that they’re not going to die for the other’s mistakes.

Lucidity would not want it to be broken. Particularly in the context i mentioned above, where someone is trying to kill Nightmare, but very much wants Lucidity alive. This means that destiny bond is more or less keeping Nightmare alive.

He wouldn’t think much of it normally, without influence from wholly different multiverses. But if anyone’s actively trying to sever the destiny bond they almost definitely want one of them dead, and Lucidity is going to assume its Nightmare until further notice. And he isn’t going to let that happen if he has anything to say about it.

[windsfavored]

it's  a  small  thing  only  i  will  probably  spend  an  inordinate  amount  of  time  brainrotting  over,  but  i  purposefully  changed  the  color  used  in  ren's  formatting  not  only  to  match  with  his  new  graphics  but  also  as  a  sign  of  character  growth.  because  i  AM  a  huge  sucker  for  development  and  he  IS  gradually  healing  —  and  i  love  the  idea  of  his  colors  shifting  accordingly  from  those  dusty, desaturated hues  to  royal  blue  and  gold.

[kashilascorner]

Oh ok. I get now why a lot of people didn't vibe with the ending.

All and all: excellent manga, overall very good final act, too rushed final 2-3 chapters but weak and honestly mediocre epilogue, which makes the high of the ending kind of leave a bitter taste. I think Noda had a good steed and suddenly he had to finish and had to rush all. So the ending in the sense of the final arc was good but the ending proper (final couple chapters) + epilogue......... Not so much

[wantonlywindswept]

fox & rex ficbit

finally wrote some tcw! whoo.

tbh not entirely sure where this is headed (a lie: i know exactly where i want this to end up, and it is with alpha-17 storming coruscant in a fit of protective rage and also murder) and atm it’s just a lot of exposition ideas because...i still have no real solid feel for the characters?? so i’m kind of working through that.

it is exhausting. star wars fanon you are exhausting. why can my brain not just write with the tropes and be done with it

anyway basically rex and fox are alpha-17′s feral children/brothers/students/?? because all three of them are competent chaos gremlins. set vaguely after geonosis but before the GAR is actually properly structured, bc if star wars doesn’t know what its timeline is then why the hell should i

---

Growing up on Kamino, Rex and Fox had three things in common: a taste for the popularly-loathed blue carbohydrate cubes, an unstoppable compulsion to always be the best at anything they did, and the extremely dubious honor of being Alpha-17's favorites.

Fox was one of the earlier Command Class clones decanted, the eldest of a batch that boasted Wolffe, Gree, Bly, and Cody: possibly the strongest CC batch that Kamino would ever produce. He came out with a massive chip on his shoulder and left his tact in his tube, and made a sport of talking back to every single trainer in the Cuy'val Dar--which was why he once spent two weeks in Medical with broken ribs, a punctured lung, and Dred Priest's bootprints on his chest.

On the other hand, Rex came from a CT batch that was nearly flushed for genetic deviation, and of the original five, only he and Crys made it past cadet training. He clawed to the top of all his training modules fueled by fear and spite, and did everything by the book to avoid any kind of attention that might further mark him as defective: he kept his head down and his mouth shut, no matter what he actually thought about things.

Alpha's ARC training was good for the both of them, in the end: it taught Rex how to speak his mind, and it taught Fox how to shut the fuck up.

"15 - 5," Alpha announced cheerfully, leaning on his training staff without even the slightest indication of being tired. Fox, flat on his back at Alpha's feet, wheezed something that might have been a curse.

"I'm starting to think that those 5 were a fluke," Rex said blandly. 

Fox's next growl was definitely a curse, and he lifted trembling hands to sign something insulting and anatomically improbable in Rex's direction.

"Go on, stop whining into my mats," Alpha said, nudging Fox in the side with his foot. "It's time for me to beat the other little brat into the ground."

Rex watched, snickering, as Fox very clearly struggled to keep from offering Alpha a similar insult. 

It was good that he was finally developing a sense of self-preservation.

It was just the three of them left in the gym, long after most sane troopers retreated to lick their wounds and get some kind of rest before they did the same thing all over again tomorrow. Even Fox's certifiably unhinged batch had abandoned them after a couple hours of extra training; most of the CCs had been tagged for the ARC classes, but some were taking to it with a little more enthusiasm than others.

Fox peeled himself off the floor, using his staff as a crutch as he staggered to the deceptive safety outside of the training ring. He passed Rex along the way; his encouraging pat on the shoulder turned into more of an uncoordinated smack to the side of the head, which Rex magnanimously decided to forgive on account of knowing he'd probably need Fox's help standing up later. 

Alpha was brutal, and relentless, and more than a little bit of a dick, but he wasn't cruel. He pushed them hard, taught them everything he knew, and if sometimes Rex caught him looking at them like he was worried they'd vanish the moment they left his sight, well. 

The campaign on Geonosis had been a hell of a debut. They'd lost thousands of brothers, and now they were all on edge waiting for their official postings. There was no telling where they'd end up next. 

Fox would undoubtedly be deployed where the fighting was the heaviest; he came off Geonosis with a dossier of accolades and a near-spotless string of victories. The rest of his batch had done equally well--all save Cody, who'd been unwillingly left behind on Kamino with a grade three concussion and a broken orbital bone, courtesy of one of Isabet Reau's battle circles.

Rex was probably destined for something similar. He'd performed well enough that he was guaranteed an officer commission, and he'd been all but adopted into the Command class after taking control of a battalion that had lost their commanding officer. It would be an absolute waste to not send him to the front lines.

Once ARC training was over, once they got their assignments and shipped out, it was entirely possible this would be the last time that Alpha saw them both alive.

With that cheery thought in mind, Rex spun the staff in his hands, met Alpha's grim expression with a sharp nod, and launched himself into the ring.

(Later, after Alpha dumped them both in the showers and ordered them not to drown, Fox gave him so much shit for only managing to win three matches out of twenty. But he also hauled Rex into the closer barracks that he shared with his batch, shoved him into the empty bed, and immediately passed out on him, which was enough of a comfort that Rex figured he could put off his vengeance for later. 

Maybe in the morning.

Maybe after they came back from the war, and they could prove to Alpha that he hadn't just sent them off to die.)

[sskk-manifesto]

And so the big sskk shortage begins (no sskk for the next 15 episodes) (and the sskk episode coming after kind of sucks)

[kacchanot-fucking-deal-with-this]

bakugou wants to touch deku's hair so bad it makes him look stupid

[benjaminthewolf]

Garcello Gives You Snuggles (Remastered)

The difference between this and the original is night and day, and I couldn't be more happier at my improvement.

****

     The only two things your ears are able to detect in the present moment are both the ragged, labored, desperate huffing of your oxygen-depleted, withered lungs, as well as the overheating, cramping, constant, pounding of your poor, throbbing, shriveled little heart, as your all but entirely numbed feet continue aimlessly striking their force against the concrete of the filthy city sidewalk right below. With a form so utterly miniscule against the relatively gigantic world all around you, there could be no better display of cruel irony as to just how, exactly, your emotions had engulfed your being. Especially in the dead of night.

     Vigorously forcing your body as such to do whatever it physically could to hold back your sight-submerging, stinging flood of minuscule tears, if for no other reason than your lungs’ momentary inability to handle the inevitably resulting gasping and wheezing, you were now all but rendered physically unable to continue in any direction but forwards, for the energy required to overcome your present inertia in said direction would prove simply far too much for your body to actually handle. Still, you carried on with your sprinting. 

     And then, just like that, your form was struck with the oxymoronic comforting shock from an equally as oxymoronic mysterious, yet familiar, teal glow. It didn’t matter in the slightest that you couldn’t detect rigid shapes for the moment, as all the information you already had was undeniably more than enough for you to piece together what was happening.

     Your being instinctively swivels its current momentum, the wavering sparks of what could barely be described as hope for anything making use of its natural inertia to practically fling your poor form into the alleyway. Ignoring in its entirety the consequential pain of skidding against the rough asphalt seconds later, you instantly force your head up in order to confirm with absolute certainty your past assumptions about the teal glow.

     Low and behold, there he is, and quite thankfully for your horridly gagging, strained lungs, you are not even forced to call his name in order to get his attention.

“Woah! Hey there, little one! I….didn’t know you were there!” the ethereal, wispy ghost form of the man only known as Garcello gently addresses your battered, jittering, scraped-up being whilst simultaneously attempting to carefully scoop it all up in his hands. As he does this, the one, single, little thing you can get your quavering self to do now is just cry. Now that your body didn’t have to focus on running, it could instead redirect all that energy to what it had previously held back for so long, and for that exact reason as well.

     “Awww…. Hey now, hey now, it's perfectly okay for you to cry. I have absolutely no idea what’s happened to you, but you gotta be able to trust me when I say that whatever you experienced back there, it cannot hurt you right now. And that means it's safe to let it out.” Garcello softly explains to your torrentally sobbing, trembling being as he tenderly snuggles you against his dark teal abdomen.

     You absolutely didn’t need to be told to keep crying to keep crying. Nonetheless, in essentially instant response to the tender, sympathetic, soothing words of the ghost, you promptly bury your face in his t-shirt and immediately unleash the, somehow, now even harsher flow of your tears into the soft, ghostly, thin, silky fabric. Garcello says absolutely nothing as you only continue to bawl. Neither of you had even the slightest clue as to just how long this scene lasted. Yet, upon your fierce wailing giving way to pained sniffling, Garcello still doesn’t dare to break the silence.

     Eventually, however, you do remove your face from his abdomen. And that was when the words began to come. It wasn’t an elegant, nor a succinct explanation by any stretch of the imagination, but you couldn’t care less about that. All that you cared about was that someone was legitimately taking the time to let you incessantly ramble on about what exactly had happened to you, and was actually paying attention with intent of helping you recover from the experiences you’d revealed after the fact. Once again, the time it took for you to finish your rabid release could’ve been anywhere from five minutes to half an hour, neither of you had any way to know with any certainty. And, once again, Garcello remains completely and utterly silent as you just continue to rave about…well, pretty much everything you needed to rave about. It wasn’t until he was absolutely, positively sure you were finished that he finally took in a breath to start talking.

     “First of all, I just want to say that you are very brave for telling me this. Ultimately, the only way that you can get proper help is to talk to someone about what you’ve gone through. And I guarantee you, there ARE people out there who can help. …professionally I mean. Ya know, like licensed therapists, and…obviously I’m not one of those, so… But yes, talking about all this is a very big step. I can see you’re already jittering a whole lot less because of it. Just letting out all your emotions verbally can be a huge factor in regaining control in these kinds of situations.”

     Garcello takes a moment to pause as you continue your exhausted heaving.

     “For right now, you just need to keep breathing. I don’t want to overwhelm you any further by diving into the nuance of what you’ve told me. Just breathe in and out. That’s it. I’ve got ahold of you. Nothing can hurt you right now. You’re safe.”

     Your positively drained, depleted being proceeds to tremble only slightly as it softly wells up with more tears. A far less violent flow begins to stream its way out of your eyes as you once again bury yourself inside Garcello’s abdomen. The squishy, comfortable, warm flesh seems to somewhat wrap itself up around your being as you lean into it, whilst the places it couldn’t reach, such as your back, are gently caressed by the ghost’s delicate fingers. And that’s when you started to hear it.

     The low-pitched, subtle grumbles tucked away behind many layers of ghostly flesh immediately grab your attention whilst the gears inside your head begin turning. Garcello is slightly confused at first, but upon you turning your head to the side just a little, in order to squish it into his midsection, he begins to understand your thought process as well. 

     “Do you…do you wanna go in there?” he eventually manages to ask. 

     All you would give in response was a vigorous flurry of nods, prompting the ghostly teal man to let out a short, friendly chuckle.

     “Well, it is nice and warm in there! Makes a great resting spot I suppose!” he affirmingly speaks with a smile, whilst raising you up towards his face. “...and let’s be honest, you really need a good rest after all this…so yeah! You can stay in there for a while!”

     You are now inches from the ghost’s mouth, waiting patiently for the reveal. 

     “...just let me know if my smoker breath is still there…I wouldn’t want ya to have to suffer from that because of me…” Garcello hesitantly requests as a great twinge begins to form across his face.

     You briefly reassure Garcello that if he did still have smoker breath, you would’ve definitely picked it up by now. And since you smelled none, that meant it was certainly gone.

     Garcello simply blushes just slightly in response, before swiftly thanking you for the reassurance. Now, there was only one more thing he had to do. And so, the unveiling commenced seconds later.

     The mint blue colored chamber starts to flow upon your body its natural, soothing, calm, inviting warmth, something which eagerly prompts you to start crawling all the way past Garcello’s lips, and therefore have the comfort douse over the whole of your being. 

     Over his incisor teeth you went, as a result, before you finally squished a single palm down into the smooth, slickened form of his tongue. Eagerly, yet carefully, hauling the rest of your body onto the muscle soon after, you almost instantly collapse down upon its soft, warm, pillowy surface, before nuzzling your cheek deep into it, in order to show your deep gratitude unto the teal man outside. 

     Once the ghostly owner of the tongue is absolutely certain it was safe to close his maw, he slowly brings his lips together, thus sealing you out from the cold, whilst his jaws lying past them parted just about as far as they could. This was because Garcello knew that you were far too exhausted by now to make your way towards his open, tight, and squishy gullet. Because of this, he needed to elicit the aid of good ol’ gravity in order to get you down to his gut. 

     You are soon able to sense the ghost’s tongue lifting up rather slowly and gingerly. You therefore give the muscle a slight pat to let him know you’re okay before it starts to slope down, and towards Garcello’s now gaping laryngopharynx. 

     The plump, rounded form of his uvula gently sways back and forth above the drop whilst you start to slide down the slick tongue. Gradually slipping downwards and towards Garcello’s ghostly throat, it isn’t very long before your form becomes lodged nice and tightly against his tonsils, whilst you start to gaze down into his trachea. Garcello’s slightly wavering vocal cords are then naturally covered up by the epiglottis as you are promptly squeezed into his esophagus. It takes one more gulp before your lower legs and feet slip all the way through the upper esophageal sphincter, but once this is accomplished at last, Garcello heaves out a slight sigh, before placing a couple fingers over the slight bulge in his throat. Now, his ghostly body would handle the rest.

     Casually floating over and towards the side of the alleyway as a result, Garcello sets himself down rather cautiously, not wanting the force of the motion to disturb your own journey within, before curling his ghost tail over his middle. Accompanying his ghost tail with both hands before the slight bulge in his throat disappears behind his collarbone, Garcello thus gives a slight smile. You on the inside were soon to pick up a soft heartbeat, and when you did, you would know you were close.

     Back on the inside, meanwhile, the warm, squishy squelchings of peristalsis from the throat muscles are able to massage your poor body as they continue to escort you on down. Sure enough, however, you did indeed pick up rather soon an ethereal, ghostly replication of a heartbeat, though the fact of it not being from a living source did little to make a meaningful difference. The wondrous, continual kneading pushes you deeper and deeper towards Garcello’s stomach as the heartbeat pounds gently within the ambient background of the ghost’s internal body.

     Eventually though, there was to be far more joining along with the baseline beat of the heart as both high-pitched and low-pitched gurgles and grumbles begin to echo about the awaiting chamber just below. With the lower esophageal sphincter coming into your sight seconds later, you are gently squelched out from the natural valve head-first, before at last, the rest of your body follows through, and you take the deep plunge down below.

     Promptly rising up from the harmless liquids sloshing around within Garcello’s warm, churning stomach, touching your feet down upon the very bottom of the shallow pool as you did, you then proceed to give a rather visceral full-body shake in utterly cathartic release of pent-up tension. And then, immediately after, in use of ol’ reliable once more, your utterly exhausted being flops directly onto the pillowy walls as your eyelids droop down and close your eyes. 

     Garcello on the outside is able to feel all this happening within his gut, and yet, decides not to interrupt you for the moment, as you did need to rest rather desperately. Slowly rubbing his hands all over his middle for a while, Garcello can sense you shifting around just a little deep within, presumably so you could find a more suitable sleeping position. For you down below within the walls, it wouldn’t take very long for you to fully accomplish this task. 

     Heaving out a gigantic yawn, you subtly nuzzle your head into the squishy, cushiony, heated form of the stomach walls as the gently sloshing liquids around you calmly envelop the lower half of your being. Slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness as the soft gut’s natural heat drags you further and further into comfort, the very last thing you could sense before finally falling asleep was, indeed, the constant white noise all around you. The gurgling, growling, and groaning of the stomach of the ghost who had saved you tonight. 

     Garcello on the outside only lets out a soft sigh of contentment as he senses you settling down against the squishy walls of his stomach.  

     “Goodnight, little one…” he whispers very quietly, as he himself begins closing his eyes very slowly. It would not be very long then, before the both of you were softly slumbering away in silent peace; both of Garcello’s hands against his rumbling stomach housing your tiny form deep within. 

[suzyandthefox]

Trying to work out my sorrows into bad poems instead of trauma dumping

I wish I could've accompanied this with a drawing or something but I don't have access to my drawing tablet

Warning: Pretty sad,Mild mentions of blood, metaphors for a lot of heavy topics

A Mouse's lament.

I'm nothing but a little critter, a poor tiny creature

Everything around me is big, scary, loud, complicated, I cannot bear it anymore

Everyday I knew, and today more than before

I am meant to be taken away

I am to be held

I am to be consumed

Please, I'm trapped, I'm scared

Wouldn't you take me away?

You don't have to,I know, I'm sorry

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry

I'm sorry for being loud, I'm sorry for being annoying, I'm sorry for speaking, I'm sorry for breathing.

I'm sorry that I am here

I'm in a trap, pests are the ones who are put in a trap

But at least,at least, hold me

Carry me, hold me in your hands

Could you, perhaps,hold me somewhere safer?

Somewhere deeper, somewhere warmer?

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry

I know it's not normal,I was never normal

If I were to cry myself to sleep every night, then by god, at least let it somewhere where I'm heard

I will do anything, even If i can't do much

Just please,I beg you,make me yours.

I yearn for comfort,I know I would be a perfect fit

I feel like I was made to be there after all

I will be good,I will be obedient

Please,I don't even ask to be kept alive!

Anywhere else is better than here

Asking for my own life is greedy,I don't want to be greedy

I don't deserve it

I'm only a pest after all

But if you would be so kind

As to forgive me

Forgive me selfishness, forgive my flaws, forgive me for the mistake that I am

Then would you let me pass the gates of ivory?

Would you let me speak my words to your flesh?

And would you hold me, hear me,and speak gentle words to me?

They cut into me, they tell me red suits you

The red of my blood is the only colour they wish to see from me

The sound of silence is the only sound that is to be uttered to me

So please,I beg you, take me deep within you, let your tongue guide me and let your stomach house me

Let your organs speak their consolations to me

Let me hide in your folds,the darkness within you is the only light I want

Be my home,if only for a while, if only for a while.

I'm sorry if I taste of salt, I'm sorry if I taste of metal

Bear with me, Please

Thank you, Thank you,Thank you

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Me, at my coworker: I finished both Kyoshi novels. Coworker: Uh oh. How you holding up? Me: I thinking about walking into traffic